


Spadille

by soporsensuality (mulattafury)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breathplay, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Facials, Finger Sucking, Footplay, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulattafury/pseuds/soporsensuality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always a game between you two. Sometimes, you kind of want to lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spadille

He’s got you pinned this time, and you tell yourself that it’s because you let him. You do wonder sometimes how evenly matched you are, how it would really go down if neither of you pulled punches. Gamzee’s fucking huge -you barely come up to his chest these days- and he certainly isn’t lacking in speed or flexibility because of it. That lithe, limber, deceptively lazy form can be poised to strike in an instant, quick and precise and brutal.

He’s fast, but you’re faster. Not much, but just enough, both in mind and body, to use his weight and momentum against him and gain the upper hand. Sometimes. 

Again, if you were actually sparring things would be different. But that’s not what this is at all. This is a game, and you both know, the moment it starts, which of you will come out on top, which of you wants to lose.

This time it’s you, and you knew it would be from the moment you slipped into the window of his colonyblock. For the past few weeks, you’d been sabotaging a hard-to-find collection of Alternian slam poetry that Karkat had scored for him on his last trip to their homeworld, replacing each disc with lovingly-replicated copies that played hours of white noise, or played normally for several deceptive tracks before breaking into mournful Spanish love songs, or subtly layered in that ICP hit that had started it all. You were a good kismesis, after all. Had to show him that you cared. 

Your efforts had left him agitated and aggressive, and when you flashstepped into the edge of his vision and drew your sword he was ready for you. There was no one else home, and it wouldn’t have really mattered if there had been. He took you down with ruthless efficiency, pinning you to the ground and binding your arms behind your back with a torn strip from your shirt.

His eyes are on you now, sharp-focused and hungry. He’s trying to decide what to do with you, and the thought makes your cock twitch hard and heavy in your pants.He notices, of course he fucking notices, and you hear the rumbling growl of his laugh as he presses a foot against the stiff bulge of your cock, managing to bite back a groan but unable to keep your hips from grinding up against him and giving a frustrated hiss when that pressure is taken away, finding yourself forced onto your back, the troll kicking your legs apart before pressing the edge of his foot against your neck. You can’t help but moan at that, and he presses down, forcing the sound to come out choked and desperate as your hips buck against the air, legs spread wide.

“Well look at what the MIRTHFUL MOTHERFUCKING MESSIAHS have sent my motherfucking way…” 

Through blurred vision you make out the glint of fangs in the darkness, just beneath the faint yellow glow of hooded eyes.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, my pitch brother. I’VE BEEN ALL AND WANTING TO GET MY MOTHERFUCKING HARSH ON WITH YOU FOR TOO LONG, BRO.”

The pressure is suddenly gone from your neck, and you feel him closer to you as he stoops down to your level, running a hand feather-light through your hair. The touch is too gentle, too intimate, and you hate it you fucking hate it and then those fingers are wound tight in short, thick curls, dragging you up roughly and it hurts and you moan, loud and unrestrained, in that way that only he can make you.

He leans in closer, and you think he’s going to kiss you but instead he jerks your head roughly to the side, biting hard at your shoulder, growling against the wounded flesh as blood fills his mouth and the scream that wants to leave your lips comes out as a stuttered groan. He pulls back, swiping fingers through the fresh bite to streak blood over pale skin, turning your face back towards his to swipe his tongue across your lips before shoving the bloodied fingers into your gasping, open mouth. You bite down hard and he shoves them in deeper and you moan, body jerking as you fight the urge to gag, your dick so hard you can’t see straight.

“And now I’m all wondering what I should do with you, brother…” He drags those bloodied, spit-soaked fingers from your mouth, rubbing them across your bottom lip and laughing when you chase them when he pulls his hand away. 

“Is that supposed to be some kind of rhetorical question?” you manage to gasp, a smirk finding its way briefly onto your lips. “In case you hadn’t noticed I’ve been laying the romantic shit on heavy lately. Thought for sure that’d earn me a ticket to ride on the freaky alien dick express and what I’m saying, Makara, is that you should fuck me stupid.”

“Nah, bro. I think you’d enjoy that A LITTLE TOO MOTHERFUCKING MUCH.”

He stands and you give a frustrated hiss as he jerks you up onto your knees and you hear the rustle of fabric as his pants are tugged down around his thighs. His bulge nudges against your face, almost completely erect, and the musky, heady smell of his dripping-wet nook fills your nostrils. 

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me suck you off? That’s hardly inspi—”

You groan when you’re suddenly cut off, not by the length of his bulge being pushed into your throat but by heat and wetness covering your mouth and nose. The position is far from comfortable. You’re pulled up just enough to really hurt and he’s crouched down slightly, braced against the wall, the ridged, tapered length of his bulge pressed against your face as he grinds his nook down against your mouth. He flicks your sunglasses off to watch your shock-widened eyes, and you groan in frustration against him when they clatter to the floor. 

He seems to like that, rutting down against you and nearly cutting off your breathing completely, but you’re not sure what to do after that. This is different, he always finds some different new way to completely humiliate you, and your cheeks flush red and hot as you tentatively flick your tongue against him, pressing it in deeper until you earn a pleased chirp for your efforts. 

Even after all this time you’re still not sure how to deal with his nook. You know it grips your cock like a vice, and he seems to like it when you’re inside of him, although the in-and-out thrusting of human sex seems to cause him a fair bit of discomfort and when you fuck him deep and hard it makes him quake and sob with pain, the smooth-slick walls rippling around you as they try to pull you in and force you out. You know that when his bulge is completely unsheathed, his nook is so tight you can barely slide two fingers inside, let alone fuck him properly, but it still leaks like a faucet and smears slick translucent indigo between his thighs. And you know, now, that you’ll never wash his taste from your mouth, and that you’ll never get enough of it, and you moan against him and hate yourself for it because you know he sees how much you’re enjoying this and that he’ll use it against you from now on.

You’re slowly figuring out how he likes it, and how he doesn’t, giving him long, deep licks that make him moan and pretending not to like how he grinds down hard against your face when you break it up with soft little bites and scrapes from your teeth. His taste is strong and salty-bitter and your face and neck are covered in that slick fluid. His head is dipped low, eyes boring into yours as you work your mouth against him. He’s growling at you and that makes you so fucking hot, and you press your mouth hot and open against him, moaning into him, letting your tongue flick against the slick ridges where his bulge emerges from his sheath, coaxing out heavy drops of precum onto your face. You can tell he’s getting close, but he tugs your head away with a snarl, wrenching your mouth open wider.

“Stick out your tongue, motherfucker,” he hisses in a rough, hurried whisper. “STICK OUT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING TONGUE.”

You obey and he presses his thumb against the flat of your tongue, forcing your mouth open wider, and then he’s pressed down against you again and he’s fucking humping your goddamn mouth, the sick fuck, and if anything so much as touches your cock at this point you’re going to come so goddamn hard you’re sure you’ll pass out.

He comes with a feral growl, thick ropes of it spurting onto your face and hair, his nook leaking so goddamn much it nearly fills your mouth as it shudders against your tongue. When he finally lets you go you take in a grateful gulp of air, and he barely gives you time to recover before his foot is pressed between your legs again, his thumb smearing cum across your cheek before pressing into your mouth. He rubs the top of his foot up against you, and you rock down hard against him, and it isn’t long before you’re fucking losing it, moaning around the cum-covered digit forced into your mouth as you come in your pants.

He throws you down and you groan as you slump to the ground, unable to hold yourself up. He kisses you as he unties your arms, in that soft, gentle way that you hate, and once you’re able you grab handfuls of his thick, matted dreads and pull him down hard, kiss him rough and violent, both of you bruised and bloodied and out of breath when he finally pulls away. Your hands are fisted in his shirt and you’re shaking.

“God, I fucking hate you, Makara,” you whisper, jaw aching and voice rough. “I fucking hate you and every goddamn thing you make me think and fucking feel…”

He just smiles, slow and lazy, and presses a kiss to your forehead. You push him away with a frown, wiping your face clean with the remnants of your shirt and searching for your glasses in the dark.

“It’s a beautiful motherfucking thing, isn’t it bro?”

“God, yeah.”


End file.
